Lang Syne
by Ten Thousand Ravens
Summary: Fili and Kil fall in the Battle of the Five Armies, only for Thorin to survive. He needed a heir and Bilbo seemed able to give him that...*Fem Bilbo*
1. Chapter 1

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The line of Durin had been broken.

There in the hall of Erebor, viewing his vast length of riches, stood a king without a heir. King Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror Oakenshield. He had survived the Battle of the Five armies, bruised and battered, but alive, for neither Azog now his spawn, Bolg could defeat the dwarf. His heirs, his sister's sons, did not share the same faith. They died shielding him and for that, he honored them and their courage, now with their bodies buried beneath the rich soil east of the mountain and among old Ravenhill, for it had a merry view on the Running River and what the desolation of the dragon, though in time its memories and it remains would pass.

The Mountain was reclaimed and Dale as well, for the king fulfilled his promise after the battle. Though he did it in grimness, he gave away all of Girion's jewels and riches to Bard, now King of Dale, who spread it to his friend, Thranduil the Elvenking (a spiteful choice that altered Thorin into fumes) and to the Master of the men of the Lake, to rebuild their town that had fallen.

What was left for Thorin turned him to fear.

All the wealth, robbed of him once and once attempted, could slip away and into the hands of the undeserving without a heir. Had he fallen into the embrace death during the battle with his nephews, who would have claimed what was rightfully his grandfather's, now his? Dain, perhaps, but how long could he have protected it from greedy men?

And as he pondered, he did not realize a figure lurking in the shadow.

He drew his hand to Orcrist and called out to the darkness, "Who goes there? Show yourself."

And by his command out came Bilbo, her common hobbit locks of vivid brown twisted into a braid, revealing a complexion darkened by age and dirt. She was fifty, Thorin believe, or close to that, but he never cared to ask. For now he only removed his hand and greeted her. "My Lady Baggins, I thought you had bid farewell to this place and was returning to your home," he said.

"I….I was just saying farewell….to Fili and Kili." She cleared her throat, swaying back and forth upon her heels. "Balin told me there will be a great feast tonight and you will honor them and their courage."

"You will not stay?"

"No….I must really be getting back. Who knows what the Sackville - Bagginses will have to say when I return!" Every hobbit in Hobbiton probably would frown upon her, oh how she thought of what Bungo Baggins thought of his daughter from the grave after her adventure. And for that she chuckled.

"Then I part you with my friendship," Thorin said, a hand over her breast to represent honor. "You have proven to be a most worthy burglar. And I am sorry I ever doubted you."

They exchanged a brief goodbye and Bilbo attempted to depart.

"Wait," said the dwarven King and the hobbit twirled around. "Please, stay and feast with us. Honour my nephews and drink to our victory,"

Bilbo had been weary from walking and walking and war and her stomach had been growling for hours. She had done what Gandalf had said and tightened her holster around her waist, for she has lost a vast amount of weight since she left her hobbit - hole, if you remembered happen months ago, though felt longer for the hobbit. A feast would be nice, so would an hour to rest her feet. So she didn't decline.

…

Beer and meat and bread was plenty. It tingled all their tongues to taste something other than cram.

Now Bilbo felt like a hobbit again, with a stomach full of food.

And then Thorin toasted his nephews, his company and their strength and they drank to battles to come. Once all satisfied, they leaned back in their chairs with grins upon their faces and then they retrieved their instruments and played a dark, serenity tune and sang to their victory, while some stayed back and lit their pipes.

Bilbo found herself releasing rings of smoke, larger than she had ever made and she had always been quite good at this. But Thorin, with a pipe in his mouth, blew one larger than hers and she was enthralled by it and yet a little envious. And this feel and her self competition continued on almost through the night. But now weariness had taken her.

Bilbo was half listening, half asleep dreaming of her hobbit - hole and her books, and the fireplace, flickering embers, producing a warm flow of air. She smiled to the thought. Home was calling her.

"Do was bored you, Miss Baggins?" inquired Thorin, his fingers halting their movement upon his harp.

" Oh no, no, no!" she protested. "Pray continue!"

So they took up their song once more and another hour went by. The dwarves were weary and Bilbo had already plummeted into a deep sleep.

Thorin came to his feet and lifted the hobbit off of her chair and carried her away to his chamber where she would sleep for hours upon cotton sheets and fur blankets. Heavenly, she slept and for that Thorin grinned. He leaned in closely, catching a whiff of her warm breath. And he gave a quick kiss to her forehead, sweeping his fingers through her brown locks.

"May I tell you something?" she asked, with her eyes remaining shut and sleep fastly taking her.

"Yes, pray tell," said Thorin.

"Back….uh, back in Mirkwood forest, when I climbed up the tree to find the sun and I saw the Lonely Mountain, a part of me asked myself if I would go back…." she whispered. "To Hobbiton, I mean. If I would ever go back to it…..and if I wanted to."

"It is your home," he said.

"Yes...yes it is. But perhaps Gandalf was right, perhaps I am not the same hobbit who left Hobbiton. Perhaps I was meant for more….more than books and dollies."

"Then stay."

And Bilbo said she would consider it and finally, the next morning she had chosen to linger in the mountain. In time a jaunt home, but until then, she would stay.


	2. Chapter 2

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><p>The chamber given to Bilbo was small and foul, nothing that could conquer her hobbit hole, but she found the beauty in it after several readjustments. And after an hour of doing so, she finally could hang Sting, slink out of her navy coat and set the seed she had retrieved from Beorn's garden on her bed side table. She had wished to plant it on the outskirts of her home in Bag End, the left side so everytime she glanced outside her windows she would catch a glimpse of it.<p>

But her home did not belong in Hobbition anymore. Perhaps one day she would return, though the thought was never occupying Bilbo's mind, she was more anxious to think of how the Sackville - Baggins were already claiming her home.

She thought she would bury the seed in the warm soil on Ravenhill, next to Fili and Kili's graves, but she would have to wait until spring for winter's arrival had been swift.

So consumed by thought Bilbo had not taken regard to Thorin's arrival.

"Come here, Bilbo," he said, "I've been needing to speak you."

And the hobbit found this abnormal for she had found Thorin's behavior appalling. He appeared distant, distracted with a wandering mind. She assumed it to be grief, but now her senses begun to darken.

Nonetheless, she lingered behind and he inquired if she was pleased with her stay. Bilbo, of course, answered, but felt there was something he was tempted to say, though hesitant to. Not until they reached his throne, a sea of gold and gems below them, that Thorin spoke his desired words.

"Is it not beautiful? Endless lengths of gold beyond measure," he murmured in a low tone. "But I fear what it will become now without my nephews. It will fall in the hands of corrupted humans, elves, other races that roam Middle Earth. No longer will it be Thror's gold."

Bilbo agreed and expressed her agreement. Yet the thought of Thorin's death and abandoning his grandfather's riches was not fond.

"Without a heir, my kingdom will fail. I'd imagine it would be given to my sister's son," he said, the sharpness of his tone sinking. For a moment the past begun to creep up on him. Thorin fell to a daze, leaving Bilbo to wait and wondered. But finally, he turned towards her and stepped forth. "Will you Bilbo, help me claim what I have lost, once more?"

She cleared her throat, merely appealed by the gesture, though more fearful of it, and steadily rebounded. "Thorin….I -." She began to stammer as he reeled in closer. "I….I am truly flattered, but I am only a hobbit, I am no dwarf. And….and I am much too old for such things."

Fifty she already was.

"You are fair, Lady Baggins, and have proven yourself upon my journey. I could not find anyone more suitable."

Bilbo bowed her head in dismay.

Her answer came quickly, without a doubt, though her gloom protested her from saying it. She had already followed him through many perils and he was in more of her debt than she was in his. She did owe him anything and both had acknowledge though.

But now Thorin's patience were draining, for you know Thorin's patience were thin at times like any dwarf, "What say you!" he demanded.

"I'm sorry," whispered Bilbo, mustering and searching for lost strength. "I'm sorry but I can't…."

Thorin's lip quivered with fury and she perceived he would pounce on her if she lurked in his vision any longer. He resisted and a silence descended until he spoke once more. "Then go…..dwell in your chamber until my kingdom is no more and have Erebor robbed of us once again."

Bilbo inched forth to speak once more, to perhaps mend the tension but Thorin only scowled so she rebounded. She said another hushed apologize and retreated, leaving him in his fumes and concealed dismay.

She never wanted to jeopardize the future of Erebor, but neither did she want to produce a heir for that tainted gold. She feared the Dragon Sickness, not for herself, but for Thorin. The gold he emotionally embraced had impaired him once before, it seemed as if an ounce of it still linger in him.

Generation after generation, king after king had been affected by it, what would make their child any different?

…..

Night was emerging and everyone in the mountain had retrieved themselves in their chamber for a long nights rest. You would never find one wondering about, not anyone at all, save Bilbo, not that anyone could see her. Hobbits had always been blessed with incredible stealth and she praised herself for it as she shuffled down the halls and pass mutable doors leading into mutable chambers.

But she was not looking for her own at the moment, though feeble and weary her mind was set on a quest, a quest to find Thorin.

He was not in the throne room, which Bilbo half - assumed he would be. But seeing the sun forlorn, she traveled to his chamber, the grandest of them all for after all he was the king and rapped upon the door.

Thorin's answer was gradual, making Bilbo wait impatiently, pattering her foot against the floor and sighing every second.

"What do you want?" scowled the dwarf. Declining his request, then interrupting his soon to be slumber, how dare that scanty hobbit.

"I...I wanted to speak to you," she said, softly. "Pray, let me come in."

He allowed it, though not without a long thought, but finally he stride to the side and ushered her in.

"Thorin, about your request -."

"I do not have time for your apologies."

"No, no, no….that's not why I came. I came to tell you, I thought about it." She paused for a second time, inquiring mentally if it was the proper thing to do. "Can….can you guarantee it will work?"

Thorin's head steadily shook. "But I will not ride off a chance. I must try."

And why she did next was found to be unexpected by both.

She came forth and agreed to help. though hoping it would not work.


	3. Chapter 3

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Bilbo's neck tingled by the warm sensation of Thorin's breath. At first she winced by it, where he would exchange a moan of delight and proceed to kiss her harder. There she lolled, stiff like a board, with him thrusting forth, his lips lining kisses on her neck. A part of her felt like she was dead being so still and here she laying in her coffin. So uncomfortable and tense. Of course she did not to spectate Thorin losing Erebor for another time and she valued his friendship and her feelings for him were strong, but this felt like she was sacrificing too much. A child, a heir, could she even produce one, she had to wonder. She never even thought of Thorin being fond of children.

Would she be forced to carry and raise it, but have it be snatched away when Thorin was on death's door?

Absurd but rather possible.

She had feared this and many other things since Thorin had given her the request. Terror was now her friend along with thought. She dare not ask him any of her questions though, she did wield enough trust for him to expect a genuine answer.

"Are you alright?" asked Thorin, rebounding off her.

"No, no, no," she protested, her tone quickened by nerves. "I….Thorin, is….is this really what you want? I am no dwarf, I cannot guarantee you anything."

He stroked her brown locks, his fingers swimming through them, as her words faded. He had not cared to listen to them.. "You are strong, my lady. You have proven to be of great use. I could not ask for anyone better to provide me with a son," he reassured and resumed his position to kiss her once again.

Bilbo stopped him with an emerging frown.

"A….a son? Why would you think we would have a son?"

"A son of Durin. It is only right. A Prince of Erebor, he shall be."

"And if it's not?"

Thorin's expression of bliss altered into a vacant stare, that made her wince again and compress farther down on her pillow. Avoiding his pore had now felt impossible, no direction she shifted her head would pardon her from it..

He concealed his fumes well, provoked by her evening to dare think they would not have a son. But it washed away swiftly, as his smirk enlarged and he whispered, "Do not think such things. You shall give me a son for my my wealth, Lady Baggins. Do not doubt yourself."

And again he leaned in closer, to where their bodies brushed against one another, and his breath sent a wave down her spine. His lips embraced her firmly as he continued to groan and she released soft whimpers that went unheard by him.

Her mind had wandered away once again, sullied by the thoughts of what was to come.

Oh how she mentally weeped by her ponder. And how Bilbo wished this night would end in failure.

It didn't.

()

Spring was emerging.

Soon the memory of the cold, wintery gray would forlorn and warmth would be casted upon the world.

She imagined what was stirring up in Bag End from this, already her neighbors must be setting their minds on producing the best of gardens. Hers had always put envy in their eyes.

But now she did have the strength to ponder what hers would become, she had not even found a proper place to put it. A part of her was descending into an oblivion of dismay, differing from her usual self, a little on the stern side, but still had the means to smile. She had not smiled in a while. She had been actively dwelling in her chambers and though the dwarves frowned upon it and invited her to join them in their jaunts, she protested to participate. She had become prone to sickness, each morning awaking in a nauseous state.

Coincidence, at first she believed, but it prolonged. And then her appetite grew, well enlarged actually, for a Hobbit's true passion is only focused on food. But this was different, much more different and they all perceived it.

Thorin was the first to heed the changes. He seemed pleased by them, for this was what he had wished to see.

Bilbo was not.

Apprehension was building in her.

She had been certain that this was to not work, she would not wield a dwarven child, she could not. Doubt perhaps lingered, but she could quickly, mentally deny it.

It will not work, it cannot work, she thought and then forced herself into one of her dresses. Her clothes had become tighter. Her stomach was beginning to swell. But she did not wish for eye upon it, so she concealed it with her shaw. I've just been less active, she continued to think, for in denial she was.

For all this ponder she did not realize Thorin slink in, viewing his flustered lover. The ounce of concern in him was eased by his satisfy to view the sight of her bump peering through her clothes.

He stride up to her and drew her closer, this now provoking a larger grin. And she flinched, he set his hand upon her stomach , feeling what he assumed to be his future son. Now gazing through her eyes, softly, though smoothly he whispered something to her in his dwarvish tongue, words unknown to Bilbo.

She wished to ask him what he had said.

She was interested, curious as well and she had never been this hushed before. But hesitation brought her tongue to a halt. A part of her wished not to know what he had said.

So she didn't ask, she just stood there, still as stone, before she gulped down her nerves. Yet they would not go down.


	4. Chapter 4

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_"Here ends your filthy bloodline."_

_ She pondered those words, though never wondered how she understood them. Black speech was not fond to the ears of the pure. His words were impaired, equally marred to his vision, as he stood high in the tower, viewing down at them being only specks. But he perceived their fear and it provoked a grin upon his face, as he released Fili from his blade and had him descend to the world below. And he collided with a soft thud, concealed by the cry and protest of his uncle who no longer stood still._

_ In an approached he dashed, his steps swift and trembling, with Dwalin following inches behind, though she lingered. She had never seen such dismay._

_ Never such death._

_ For a moment she did not acknowledge her surroundings, all she could do is stride around, drawing her hand to Sting's handle and heaving it out with a hushed whoosh. Was that throbbing ache emerging closer from the heartbreak of witnessing a friend of her fall into the oblivious embrace of death? Or perhaps to see someone she grown fond of, even, though she would not admit it, loved spectate such peril?_

_ "Thorin," she whispered, before collapsing to her knees. That scorch of agony had enhanced. It was growing near , seizing her whole body into a quiver. But she could not release a wince to ease it, or to have it gain the attention of her departed companions. She could only say his name, a vast size breath between each other. "Thorin…Thorin…Thorin." _

"Bilbo…Bilbo, wake up."

The voice retrieved from her deep slumber and Thorin slipped into view between her eyes that were now merely closed they looked like slits. He was seated with his back in an angle, his woe expression gazing upon her as one hand slept in hers and the other dandled through her curls.

She winced.

Not for that stare lolling upon her, but for the throbbing feel still occurring at her stomach. She compressed her head farther down against her pillow, releasing a yelp of distress. Memories of a fair nights rest had become so distant, despite they existed only three months ago. She swallowed hard to imagine the next six months.

"Can I tempt with you cup of tea, lassie?" she heard a familiar voice ring out, rather pleased to hear that sound of Azog rapping in her ears, as she glanced to Dori. She had not realized his presences lingered so close, though it was understandable considering her heed had wandered to other places.

"No…no, that's alright," she protested.

"Get her a cup, Dori," Thorin replied, despite the deny and met with her scolding pore. "Look at you, you're tired; weak."

"I'm fine," said Bilbo, shuffling herself on her stack of pillows. She had never been acquaintances with such comfort, though her Hobbit hole did provide her with some of it. "Just a bit tight. And swollen." Her words were faint and hushed, even as she continued on. "I was having a nightmare."

Thorin's head steadily fall to his shoulder, not very enthralled yet allowed her to continue.

"It…it was about that day….during the battle."

But her words came to a halt as his fingers encircled around hers, firm enough they may have turned white and he said, with a reassuring grin emerging across his face, "Do not worry on such things. The future of Durin lies within you. Now are walls will forever be safe."

Words were left unsaid as they remained in a locked position, though she was tempted to speak. A thought was on her tongue and she was ready to release it, but she found herself, as she normally had been, held back from speaking for their moment was interrupted.

"Thorin," said Dwalin, enter her chambers without a rap upon the door. How impolite she found it to be. But it would not matter for what Dwalin said next stole her breath away. "Gandalf is here, requesting to see you."

Bilbo's eyes shifted back to him, half – expecting to see him infected by joy as well,. It wasn't.

His expression had altered vacant, without emotion he appeared to gaze away from her eyes and simply nothing. For a implausible moment he sat with a slouch in his back, before excusing himself, though before thought he gripped Dori's arm and drew him in. "Do not let her leave," he demanded and emerged into the corridor. And Thorin paced himself, almost as if he was hesitant to meet with his elder acquaintance, for he was. But as long as the topic of Bilbo showed no power in the conversation, he would be fine, he assured himself. So he encountered the wizard, with a much more appealing greet than he had given him before and they talked, exchanging stories and talking of tales and adventure.

It was lik e the night in Bag End, while all other dwarves had their attention grasped by other things, they were sharing words.

But then the dire question came.

"Tell me, where is my burglar?" inquired Gandalf.

"She is at rest," he replied, not much of a lie though Gandalf was curious to hear his tone turn so swift.

"Yes…well then, I shall not wake her. Give her my best."

"You will not stay?" Thorin was relieved.

"I am needed else where, but I shall return in time."

The anxiety of the dwarf king was now settling into oblivion. He did not have time to waste for wizards, especially one like Gandalf, and he did not wish to expose his private business either. He had imagined the words that would slip from his tongue if he saw Bilbo's current state.

Thorin didn't need to imagine it.

"Gandalf," a voice squeaked from behind and all eyes were drawn to the Hobbit cowering away in the shadows.

A look unseen before was painted across Thorin's face and for a moment, it was undetectable. They would not realize quick enough to know it was fear.

"My dear Bilbo Baggins!" he greeted, his tone raised from excitement. "Well, it has been quite a long time."

"Yes…yes it has." And trekked closer, to where her figure was not sullied by the dimness and his view of her was no longer foul. "Uh…..Thorin and I have something we've been meaning to tell you."

She didn't need to. Thorin had already caught his observing eyes and the fumes awakening in him.


	5. Chapter 5

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"Fool!" declared the wizard, approaching the occupied throne. "You would not only led your kingdom into such peril, but my burglar along with it."

Thorin had never been a witness to such fumes from Gandalf. The wizard was bolshie, but not bitter, he wise enough not to grow so angry. But now his temper was flaring and he did not care to resist showing it. And only to provoke it, there Thorin sat, a firm position and vacant stare, not retrieving the fear in his words. So Gandalf resumed his lecture. "You will not only bring the death or your heir, but of her as well."

The words did not appall Thorin enough to give a retort.

Inquires were settling in the minds of those who had assembled in the throne room, Dwalin and Balin being two. Balin was not timid and maybe not as loyal enough as his brother resist to come forth and ask, "Thorin, what is he saying?"

"What I am saying, Master Dwarf, is the carrying of his heir will kill Bilbo. A Hobbit does not have the strength to wield a dwarven child," he said and not loosening his tone. "She will find only death if she is not treated properly."

Dwalin's head bowed in shame and Balin came an inch closer. Set with a question on his tongue once again, he was not as hesitant to ask it.. "Is there anything we can do?"

"The survival of Bilbo is slim, but there is a chance," he reassured. "I possibly could save her."

"In this way of saving her you would kill my son?" Thorin sprung from his seat, engulfed by fumes as his brow curled like caterpillars and his lips trembled.

"Neither of them will survive, if I do try."

"Steadily, he stepped down the stairs that was a barrier between him and the wizard. He revealed no fear, only a tranquility that seemed to ease him companions over. "It is only a myth...a legend. A dwarf has not bred with a hobbit in a mere century."

"You are more of a fool than you have ever been if you believe that." Gandalf's sigh was broad, heavy and without a doubt caused by the frustration of dwarves. "We can still spare her from what is to come."

"And what will spare my kingdom from the greed of men? The wraith of elves and orcs? The desires of dragons?" he inquired, holding fast to his ground. "I will not watch Erebor suffer one again."

Gandalf did produce an answer, considering he could not find on at the moment. He came closer, appearing tempted by the words settling on his tongue but Thorin had already returned to his throne and steadily he shifted his glare towards the wizard and he whispered, "Go now. You are no longer welcomed here."

Gandalf took his leave, hesitant and livid to do so. In time he would return despite the foul words of the king, he would just need return with a way to pardon Bilbo from her death, if Thorin was not to come to his senses to do so.

For the dwarf, he spoke to both Dwalin and Balin, his tone forbidding and his pace brief, warning both now to speak of this to Bilbo or any other dwarf dwelling in the halls.

A new month was prevailing, a new spring already flourishing, but Bilbo still dwelled behind walls. She did not want to see Bag End anytime soon, but neither did she wish to see the sleek walls of her chamber everyday.

Is it spring already, she wondered, where the gardens being tended to and the Great Mill spinning once again in the Shire?

She imagined them in her mind, but quickly shook them off as soon as they came. She did not want to waste time on pondering what may have been.

For now the daily nuisance of her and Thorin's growing child was occupying her mind, despite Thorin's best effort to make her contented. The dwarves too strived to ease her, though their help was rather lacking, but still, she was grateful for it. Dwalin and Gloin she never expected much from, yet ironically it was Balin who seemed somewhat distant. When he encountered her, he would sigh deep with dismay and ambling away shaking his head. Bilbo queried but it was no use.

"There would be no shame in turning back now, lassie," assured the elderly dwarf one day.

Bilbo sprung from it, finding it a rather unforeseen. "I can't really now," she said, placing her hand on her stomach.

Gradually Balin's hand descended to her shoulder and he squeezed it with a bit of strength. He forced a wounded smile, only to provoke her perplexity more as he said, "And for that I am sorry." Unspoken words salted his tongue, he wanted to express the coming faith of her and her child and he would of, if it was not for the sudden interruption.

He was the one now leaping in wonder as their eyes fall to the doorway, where Thorin stood, praising himself mentally for catching the dwarf in time. He merely forced Balin out with verbal strength and a sully glare that Bilbo took heed upon quickly though feared questioning little use.

But his frown distorted into a look of bliss, as he set his eyes to her.

"You look weary...exhausted, " he observed.

She bowed her head in dismay, which he boost up as soon as it descended.

"Rest, you are no use to yourself or my son in this state." He reached out towards her, fondling at her bump. ""Thradin."

""Thradin?" she virtually spat, though she did not mean to miff Thorin in anyway.

"It is the name I have chosen for him." Soon the dwarf discerned her vacant look he mislead as an insult against his choice. "You do not like it?"

"No, no, no," protested Bilbo, withdrawing several steps away. "I...I never knew much about dwarven names."

"He will be king one day. He cannot hold a hobbit name."

Her chortles was soft and laugh. "Even if he is half hobbit."

"None save the ones in these halls shall know."

Again she delivered another titter, pondering how absurd he would appear if he retained the same appearance characteristics of a dwarf and a hobbit. Absurd, truly absurd, she thought. But sniggers were soon interrupted by a sharp rap of pain.

It was sudden, it always had been, yet it seemed so constant.

She seized her stomach, wincing with every stroke of agony as she almost collapsed to the foot of bed, just in time for Thorin to draw her near in his arms.

"Bilbo...what is it?" he asked, trying to remain tranquil as he gradually brought them both to their knees. The torement was too gripping that it devoured her ability to speak. "Oin!"

Bastard must not having his trumpet with him.

"Oin!" he called once again and his booming tone, echoing through the stone walls, then produced the company of his dwarven friends, one being Oin who heaved his way through.

And for a moment, a revelation struck Thorin.

Gandalf was right.


End file.
